


Spy's Challenge (winner takes all)

by Snegurochka



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-11-08
Updated: 2006-11-08
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snegurochka/pseuds/Snegurochka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were a lot of things a young man could do with his anger. He could shove it under a rock and never think about it again; he could let it fester and rot inside him until it consumed every cell in his body; or – and really, <i>this</i> was the good one – he could take it out on the first person he thought deserved it.</p><p>~3,300 words. NC-17. Angry/dirty talk; brief references to past non-con. Written for the 2006 Snupin Santa fest. November 2006.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spy's Challenge (winner takes all)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for canonfodder123 at the 2006 snupin_santa exchange, who wanted a PWP with young Snupin (early 20s) and a random meeting, and who also indicated that some angry-sex wouldn't go amiss. Huge thanks to islandsmoke for the speedy beta.

There were a lot of things a young man could do with his anger. He could shove it under a rock and never think about it again; he could let it fester and rot inside him until it consumed every cell in his body; or – and really, _this_ was the good one – he could take it out on the first person he thought deserved it.

November was rainy that year, Lupin thought with bitterness as he hauled his tattered coat up even further around his neck, making him look like some crazy old hunchback. November was rainy every year in England, though, so that was a stupid thing to say, or even think. Except that in previous rainy Novembers, James and Lily had been there to share his bitterness about it.

This November, there was only an angry young man, a daily dose of rain, and a gutted cottage called Godric's Hollow, where the mud ran deep and the bodies had long since been carted away.

Oh yes, there were a _lot_ of things a young man could do with his anger, and Lupin intended to try out every one of them. But first, he needed a job.

* * *

 

He should have guessed that Dumbledore wouldn't help him.

"My dear boy," the old man began, and Lupin had to struggle to keep his hands from balling into fists in his coat pockets.

"You don't think I've earned this?" he muttered, staring down at his chafed boots.

"It is not a matter of earning it, Remus, you know that. But my hands are tied, so to speak. I cannot offer you the Defence Against the Dark Arts position." Lupin knew those damned blue eyes were watching him over those damned half-moon spectacles, just like they always did. He even knew they were probably trying to look _kind_.

Lupin had neither the time nor energy for _kindness_ anymore. He raised his head. "I can't stay with the Pack now," he said flatly, "even if there was one to stay with. They've all scattered, and Greyback doesn't trust anyone anymore." He narrowed his eyes. "My hands are tied, Albus," he added with a tilt of his head. "So to speak."

But it was no use. One thing he'd learned as a student at Hogwarts was that Dumbledore's word was final. The old man simply held his gaze, silently shaking his head.

"At least let me see Harry!" he found himself shouting. "I know he's not my godson, and none of them trusted me anymore, but he's–"

"No, Remus," Dumbledore said firmly. "Harry is with his family now, and it is best if you do not try to find him."

He pushed the anger down even further and left without another word, slamming the office door behind him. He set off down the path from the school, chest heaving and boots plodding in the sticky mud.

His fists remained clenched in his coat pockets, the way they always seemed to be these days. There wasn't any point in releasing them, after all; he never knew when it might finally be the right time to use them. And oh, Lupin was _itching_ to use those fists, to break his wand in half and just _fight_ – to roll around in the muddy ground and let the punches fly where they wanted to, taking down anyone who crossed his path.

He couldn't save James or Lily, and he couldn't save Sirius or Peter. The universe owed him a _fucking_ explanation, and he was damned well determined to get one.

There were only so many things a young man could do with his anger, after all.

* * *

 

The dark cloak swirled in front of him, displaying a flash of silver and green at the neck, and Lupin stopped dead in his tracks on the Hogsmeade high street.

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me," he muttered under his breath, striding forward quickly and grabbing a handful of the scarf. He pulled hard and the man wearing it whirled around.

"What are you–" the man began, but then he stopped in mid-sentence and glowered. "Lupin," he spat, tugging the scarf out of Lupin's hands.

"That's a teaching scarf," said Lupin accusingly, pointing a finger at the man. "You better tell me you killed a Hogwarts professor for that fucking thing, Snape."

A wicked smile spread across Snape's beaked features as he stepped backwards and eyed Lupin. "_Language_, Lupin," he admonished, his voice thick and oily. "Surely that is no way to speak to a superior?"

"Superior?" Lupin wasted only one second on surprise before quickly moving to fury. He closed his mouth and clenched his jaw.

"Certainly," Snape continued, smoothing the ends of the scarf down over his cloak. "I am a Hogwarts professor, and you are not. That makes me superior to you. Although," he added, pausing to give a false snort of amusement, "that's by no means the only thing."

Lupin muttered a stream of curses under his breath and felt the ever-present anger bubble up inside him again. "Where were you, Snape?" he whispered fiercely, grabbing the front of his cloak and hauling him into a nearby alley before shoving him back against the grimy brick wall. "How did _you_ spend Halloween this year, you fucking traitor?" His eyes must have been blazing yellow, the way they did sometimes when he was unnaturally agitated, because Snape suddenly looked afraid.

The fear flashed across his face but disappeared just as quickly, and he pushed Lupin away. "I could ask the same of you," he drawled. "Let me guess," he continued in a harsh voice. "You had your mouth too full of werewolf cock to come to Potter's rescue."

Lupin didn't miss a beat, the loathing seeping into his veins now. "And you were too busy on your hands and knees for Voldemort to bother telling the Order anything useful, I suppose?"

Silence filled the empty alley as they glared at each other, icy breath rising from the air between them.

"I want that job," Lupin snarled at last, filling the silence with a voice as black and rough as a leather hide.

"Pity," replied Snape, "that it is not yours to want."

"It could be."

"Not in my lifetime."

"You don't deserve it, Snape. I am in much more danger than you." Lupin paced the hollow alley, scattering rats and flattening leaves with every leaden step. "If Greyback were to discover that I–"

"Have _flexible_ loyalties?"

Lupin glared.

"What would happen, Lupin? Really, I am most curious." He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall, snagging the back of his robes on the brick. "Does he have the Dark Lord's _Cruciatus_ skills?"

"Why am I not surprised that you still speak of him in the present tense?" Lupin shot back.

Snape paused, clenching his jaw. "Or Legilimency, then? Don't tell me that rabid beast secretly has a mind of steel and the skill to pick through all your naughty thoughts?"

Lupin held Snape's gaze, gauging his fear. "My naughty thoughts?" he repeated quietly. "Now what might those be?" He leaned in closer, one hand on the wall beside Snape's shoulder, and inhaled deeply.

"Between werewolves?" Snape murmured. "I wouldn't know. But I would not be remotely surprised to learn that you are in fact in _no_ danger at all, because the worst your pack leader would do to you would be to unzip, flip you over, and hold you down." Snape's voice was firm but quiet, and he licked his lips over the last words.

Lupin grabbed the front of Snape's robes and let his hand ball into a tight fist over the fabric. "Careful, Snape," he replied, a steely calm coating his words, "or I might start to think you like that idea."

"Oh, but I do," said Snape. "The idea of you helpless on the ground with werewolves swarming you, ready to violate every orifice you have?" He gave Lupin an inky, unreadable stare. "Why wouldn't I like that idea? It would be no less than you deserve, after all."

"That so?" Lupin felt the anger burning through him again. "And what do you deserve, then? A filthy Death Eater who betrayed the Order, killed my friends, _and_ took my fucking job?" It might have even been funny under different circumstances, but Snape's sneering face in front of him at that moment was not remotely funny. "I hope Voldemort managed to find time to fuck you _bound and gagged _before he disappeared," he spat, "you lying, sorry piece of–"

But he was cut off with a strangled sound as Snape grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him close, leaning in and whispering low in his ear. "Oh, he did," Snape breathed. "So if I like the idea of Greyback and you, and you like the idea of the Dark Lord and me, then where does that leave us, Lupin?"

Lupin nearly sagged against Snape's body at the thread of silk in that voice. The whispered words slid down his spine and woke something very dark and very deep inside him. Instead of answering, he could only push Snape back against the wall again, but this time anger wasn't the only purpose. He took a handful of Snape's hair at the nape of his neck and curled it in his fingers, drawing Snape's head back and exposing a pale throat under the Slytherin scarf. His lips hit the skin before he even knew what he was doing.

Snape only gasped sharply and swallowed, his throat convulsing under Lupin's mouth as his head hit the brick wall behind him. "Lupin," he growled in a voice that could have been either outraged or encouraging, Lupin couldn't tell, but the harsh tone of it only spurred him on. Snape was a grown man; he could take care of himself. If he didn't want a werewolf's lips on his neck, Lupin felt sure the man knew enough hexes to stop the proceedings at once.

But he didn't. In fact, he seemed to know just what to say to ensure Lupin didn't let up.

"Filthy werewolf," he whispered fiercely, his breath hot in the night air. "You want my job? Then _take it_ from me."

That did it. Lupin snarled and tore at Snape's robes, ripping them open and shoving the cloak aside. Snape's pale, greyish chest gleamed through the growing dark and Lupin couldn't help but rake his fingernails down it, never lifting his mouth from Snape's neck and shoulder. He bit and sucked and scratched at every surface he could reach. Above him, Snape huffed breaths of cold air and pulled him in closer.

"You just angered a werewolf," Lupin said roughly, pausing to tear at Snape's trousers with one hand and his own with the other. "That wasn't a good idea."

"You still think I'm _scared_ of werewolves, don't you?" Snape replied, the sound of his sneer cutting through the night.

"You are," said Lupin simply, whirling Snape around and shoving him in hard against the brick wall before tugging his trousers down his hips.

"So, you want to fuck the enemy?" Snape swallowed hard, his forehead pressing against the dirty brick. "You don't even know who the enemy is, Lupin."

Lupin shoved him into the wall harder with one arm across his back. "You'll do," he breathed in Snape's ear, and the low moan that fell from Snape's lips seemed to make this whole thing worthwhile.

His cock was hard and throbbing, a reaction he hadn't felt towards another human being in far too long. He should have guessed that _Snape_ of all people would be the one to do this to him, to wake some dormant passion and fury that he'd been holding inside through this entire miserable war. Flustered and frantic, he grabbed at his cock and lifted it out of his trousers, pushing it immediately against the small of Snape's back as both a warning and a threat.

"Feel me?" he whispered, leaning close to Snape's ear again. "Feel what I can do to you if I want to?"

"How long's it been, Lupin," Snape's harsh voice came from over his shoulder, "that you're willing to fuck a Death Eater? An all-time low, I'd guess."

"And I don't see you complaining about the werewolf cock about to fuck your arse," Lupin murmured back. "Let me guess," he added. "You're wishing it was Greyback right now, or maybe Voldemort…? Or no, wait…" He smiled into Snape's neck as his fingers slipped into the cleft of his arse, pulling him apart. "Albus's new pet," he growled, relishing the way Snape's spine stiffened. "Is this how you got that job?"

Before Snape could either answer or turn around to fire a hex, Lupin pushed forward and sank his cock between Snape's cheeks, thrusting against his hole.

"You want lube?" he asked roughly, dragging his chin over the back of Snape's neck to let his stubble burn the pale skin. "Then you'd better ask nicely."

"Fuck you," Snape spat, his fingers clawing at the brick wall.

"Oh, I don't think so," snarled Lupin. "I've been fucked six ways to Sunday already in this war, you miserable prick. It's my turn now."

He made to shove forward again, but Snape's whispered words stopped him and he grinned. He felt a slick oil seep around the head of his cock as Snape pushed his hips back. Well, well, _well_. Maybe Snape did have his own particular methods for getting what he wanted in the world.

"If you can get me to come first," Snape muttered over his shoulder, his grip still tight on the wall in front of him, "then you can have my Defence job."

The anger surged in Lupin again at the taunt, and he took his cock in his hand as he thrust up against Snape. The lubrication spell allowed him to slide easily, and to his surprise Snape's body gave only minor resistance. He pushed in hard, shoving his cock inside Snape and biting back the immediate groan that threatened to fall from his lips at the feel of it. Snape was hot and slick, and the intense pressure around Lupin's cock nearly overwhelmed him.

He gritted his teeth and began to thrust, one hand falling to Snape's cock and pumping it. It was thick in his fist and already leaking, and to his surprise Snape made no attempt to swat the hand away. The beaked face only screwed up in concentration in the shadows, palms flat against the wall and cheeks flushed with rare colour. If he was determined to win through sheer force of will, Lupin thought, then the man was in for a nasty shock.

Lupin thrust in hard, bending his knees and pouring all his hate and anger into fucking Snape blind in an alley off the high street in Hogsmeade, one rainy night in November. His feet began to sink into the mulch of the unpaved road and the raindrops slipped into the collar of his cloak and ran down his chest and back, making him shiver. His free arm closed around Snape's waist and he held him close as his cock moved inside Snape's body and his hand flew up and down Snape's prick.

They didn't moan so much as _grunt_, each of them muttering sharp, stabbing sounds into the night while trying not to betray their arousal. The cold air huffed in clouds between the moving bodies and Lupin saw Snape's jaw harden in concentration. _I'm going to win, you fucking bastard. One more tug and I'm going to win…_

But at that moment Snape clenched around him, his arse tightening and sending a jolt of pure pleasure up Lupin's cock and down his thighs. "That's not really the best you can do, is it, Lupin?" Snape huffed over his shoulder, bending his knees to take Lupin in deeper.

Lupin grabbed a fistful of black hair and _pushed_, growling at the taunt and dropping his hand from Snape's cock. He shoved Snape into the wall and fucked him hard, feeling his balls draw up and the anger wash over him in refreshing waves of release. He came with a low groan, grasping at Snape's hip with one hand and holding him still as he pulsed into Snape's arse. He let himself drown in the freedom of it, the release of tension and anger and lies and debts unpaid, feeling the war and his losses drain from him as he slumped against Snape's sweaty back.

He opened his eyes again only when Snape grunted and he felt a push against his cock, and he raised his eyes to find Snape glaring at him over his shoulder. "Get out," he muttered irritably, clenching his jaw, and Lupin pulled back, letting Snape's muscles push his cock free. He began to refasten his trousers as Snape wanked himself hard, leaning into the wall with his hand flying on his cock and a look of grim determination on his face.

He came into his fist with only a small noise. Lupin saw the way the cords of his neck tensed and his shoulders hunched as he drew out the pleasure, milking his cock for every last drop before raising his head and eyeing Lupin again.

"I suppose that means you lose," he said offhandedly, muttering a cleaning charm on himself before pulling his trousers up and refastening his cloak.

"Shut up, Snape," Lupin said miserably, not looking at him. "You wouldn't have given me that job anyway."

"That's true," Snape said with a smirk. "Especially since my job is Potions." He stalked down the alley, Lupin staring after him.

"What?" called Lupin when he found his voice again. "Who the hell has the Defence job, then?"

"Not you," Snape called over his shoulder. "But you can find someone else to blame for that, can't you?"

Lupin's eyes widened and he felt a renewed rush of fury. "Snape!" he shouted.

At the end of the alley, Snape paused and turned, holding his hands out to the sides and giving a mock bow. "It's been a pleasure, Lupin," he called back, "as always. Why don't we do this again next year?" he added with oily charm. "Perhaps by then you will have learned some control?"

He turned again and disappeared around the corner, leaving Lupin with nothing but sticky trousers and his hands still balled into fists in his pockets, waiting for that fight.

* * *

 

There were a lot of things a young man could do with his anger. In the November rain that year, Lupin thought up at least twenty of them, all of them unsatisfactory.

He should shove it under a rock and never think about it again.

He should let it fester and rot inside him until it consumed every cell in his body.

No, wait. _This_ was the good one: he should take it out on the first person he thought deserved it.

There were so many potential candidates, after all, particularly among those who worked at Hogwarts. He had nothing to lose anymore, especially not as long as it kept raining like this. He hauled his tattered coat up even further around his neck, making him look like some crazy old hunchback, and set off into the night.

Oh yes, there were a _lot_ of things a young man could do with his anger, and one of them was to bide his time until next year and wait for a rematch. One day he would win, and one day – no matter how long it took, no matter how many times Snape goaded him and bent over for him – that Defence job would be his.

 

FIN


End file.
